whoa,” Mercy said, plucking the empty vessel from his fingers. “Don’t make yourself sick. I think that’s gonna happen on its own, but let’s not help it along.”
Reese licked stray droplets off his lips, panting through an open mouth. “Sorry.” The yard seemed to pulse, swelling in and out, like it was breathing.
“Nothing to be sorry about. It happens to the best of us.”
Reese was sorry that he’d let his judgement become clouded. This was a slip; an inebriated operative was a vulnerable operative, and vulnerability lead to death.
But in this moment of dizzy confusion, he was most sorry about the fact that he’d spoken out of turn. It wouldn’t be good to let anyone know he was this upset; it might get back to Tenny, and then Tenny would make merciless fun of him, and there might not be any nights together anymore; no more girls to share, and, even better, the quiet minutes lying side by side, once the girls had gone, when it was just the two of them. When Tenny’s guard had come down, and his voice came out soft and full of doubt and question. Reese liked him like that best.
Something warm splashed on the back of his hand.
“Aw, kid,” Mercy said. “I’m sorry.”
Reese lifted his hand to his face; it was blurry, but he could see the gleam of moisture on his knuckles. He touched his face, and that was wet, too. Wet, and warm. When he licked his lips again, he tasted salt, and…
Oh.
Tears poured down his cheeks, a hot flood of them. He wasn’t sobbing or choking like people did in movies. But just like he hadn’t known to start this, he didn’t know how to stop it, and could only wipe messily at his cheeks with both hands, confounded.
Mercy’s big, heavy arm draped across his shoulders, and Reese found himself shifting into the solid presence beside him. He wasn’t himself now, couldn’t be trusted to be alert or capable, but Mercy was more than capable enough for the both of them. Mercy was safe. A thought that flickered through his addled brain in a way it hadn’t before. Not just to be respected, and listened to, and consulted professionally. Mercy was safe, and good, and Reese could lean on him now. Maybe any time that he needed to.
“The guys and I should’ve been doing a better job,” Mercy said, patting his far shoulder. “Fox is a lot of things that are good, but he shouldn’t be giving anyone any romantic advice. Who am I kidding, he hasn’t talked about this with you at all, has he?”
Reese wiped his face, and thought of Fox sitting cool and distant on the picnic table, corrected their form, pushing their boundaries, riling them up. Always testing. He found he couldn’t put any of that into words at the moment, so he didn’t try.
“And Tenny’s fucked up,” Mercy continued. “He’s got his own issues. Someone else should have sat you down and had the talk. I should have sat you down. Reese, before you and Tenny started – whatever it is you started – had you ever been with a woman before?”
Reese shook his head, which proved a bad idea when the world around him swayed. He closed his eyes, and gave up on trying to wipe his face; the tears kept coming, and there didn’t seem to be a way to stem them.
Mercy sighed. “You remember when you were in Texas, and you called me?”
He wanted to nod, but shaking his head had been a bad move, so Reese managed a choked, “Yes.”
“And remember how you said you hated Tenny? I’m guessing you don’t anymore.”
Even fainter, more tremulous, his voice an awful traitor: “No.”
“He’s more like you than anyone else around here, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“You guys butted heads at first, but it makes sense that you’d end up getting along. That you would – care about each other.” A pause, and Mercy’s voice shifted. “He hasn’t forced you to do anything, has he?” Sharper. Worried.
Reese didn’t dare attempt explaining that first night, walking into his room and finding Stephanie sitting on the end of his bed, in that red dress, and Tenny with his arms folded. Watch me. This is how you do it. “No.” Nothing about that night, or any since, had been forced.
“You kissed him?”
Reese’s nose was getting stuffier and stuffier. He sniffled, and swiped ineffectually at his wet face again. “He kissed me first.” When he closed his eyes – which he did